


Killing Carmilla.

by CreamcheeseBagel



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Alucard Whump, Broken Bones, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Physical Abuse, Post-Season/Series 02, Slavery, Swearing, alucard is a moody teenager, hector just wants to die, hector whump, mute hector, sypha is amazing, trevor is grumpy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-10-25 18:39:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17730530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CreamcheeseBagel/pseuds/CreamcheeseBagel
Summary: Alucard has remained within the castle he had conquered. Alone and committed to his self-induced penance after saving humanity from the depths of his Father; he's struggling to reconcile with himself and where he belongs.But it's not all doom and gloom when Trevor and Sypha return, right? If you can ignore the dire news of vampire masses roaming the lands... and the beaten and broken prisoner who doesn't speak, that is.In the wise words of Trevor: ‘You’re telling me that we risked our lives saving this sack of shit?’.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Trevor and Sypha really believed they were doing him a favour when they returned to Alucard, updating him on the horde of Vampires running wild, and showing him their new companion. 
> 
> A small prompt on my Tumblr that ran wild.

Alucard had swept Sypha from her feet as soon as their eyes had met, his large hands fisted into the backs of her robes lest she suddenly vanish. She too had clung to his shoulders like a child, excitedly babbling into his hair. Trevor had come next, gentle in removing Sypha but gruff in his announcement of having not missed the dhampir. Alucard had merely brushed the comment aside and pulled the man towards himself, a long arm slung contently over a broad shoulder. He had then recaptured Sypha under his right arm, committing himself to hearing their tales, and Trevor’s tall tales, and basking in their sudden presence.

However, his favourite duo had not returned alone.

Alucard sniffs the air, over a disgruntled Trevor's head, a familiar scent thick and nostalgic but not Trevor's own. His eyes sweep through the elongated hallway to the distinctively human shape dirtying his running carpet.

‘I know that man,’ Alucard announces, breaking the friendly reunion. He stalks to the unwelcome guest and nudges the mass to roll over with the tip of hit boot. The body lulls with the movement, clumps of ashen hair stick to an unwashed face.

‘He was a Devil Forgemaster for my Father. He vanished shortly with a small army of vampires before…’.

‘You’re telling me that we risked our lives saving this sack of shit?,’ Trevor roars, all but bounding to Alucard with his hand twitching around his whip.

 

 

* * *

 

 

‘My Father’s journals spoke favourably of him,’ Alucard recalls, delicately placing the injured man before the fireplace. ‘Yet he has proven to be weak. If he were strong, he would have fought alongside my Father…and died, foolishly, beside him…’.

‘His magical signature does match a number of the demons we’ve fought previously. Maybe even that huge warg..,’ Sypha continues and Alucard nods sombrely. Although he does spare a small smile; finding the woman’s skill of quick recollection still impressive, Speaker or not. ‘But-,’ she falters, looking towards Trevor for support. ‘If we can assume that he had defected to aid Carmilla. Which is the only logical count, _why_ in the world is he collared?’.

Trevor shrugs indifferently, not having paid too much attention to the man throughout their escape. He leans heavily against the ornate fireplace of the sitting room, staring hard at the husk of a man before him. Alucard lounges in a winged seat, his back straight with a leg folded neatly over a knee. The proper etiquette for a young lord, however Trevor knows the dhampir remains comfortable in their presence because an elbow props up his chin. The arm right of the chair is all but taken up by Sypha, her back pressed into Alucard’s shoulder as she continues to frown thoughtfully. They each regard the Devil Forgemaster with a calculated air, analysing the worn and unconscious heap.

Alucard is the first to break the silence. ‘What is it exactly that you want _me_ to do with him? I’m sure you’re intelligent enough to know that I do not want, nor require an army?’. He flashes Trevor a small tug of his lips.

Trevor responds as expected, hands animated. ‘Don’t get me wrong. We haven’t just brought you a revenge snack’.

‘Trevor!’ Sypha sighs, her questioning forgotten. Alucard inhales deeply, resisting the urge to ghost his hands against the sudden glow of her cheeks, or swipe at Trevor for good measure.

‘But!’ Trevor huffs loudly, a hand now rubbing his neck quickly. ‘I’m getting to the point here! From the looks of it, he probably did side with that bitch to begin with. Probably thought your old man was a bit too fucked in the head,’ Alucard swallows a spiked barb, ‘ _But_ on our second raid we came across him like this-‘.

‘Stop,’ demands Alucard, his clipped tone rousing Sypha and she settles a hand on his arm. ‘You’ve been raiding vampire camps?’.

‘Fuck, let me finish!’.

Sypha interrupts the whine. ‘On our travels, we did admittedly come across a _few_ rogue clusters of the Nighthorde here and there. But, nothing we couldn’t handle. So not really a raid as per say’.

‘As _I_ was trying to say,’ Trevor cuts in, rolling his eyes at Alucard. ‘There’s still a lot of demon activity further out. On our way back here, there were a few stragglers. Luck has it, we got to take down a few vampires with them. He just happened to be with the last group we ran into. If I knew he was helping kill humans, I would have been the first to put him down’.

‘As Trevor is trying to explain...' Sypha continues, not unkindly. 'There’s been more vampiric activity that what we’ve seen before. I now believe it must be Carmilla who has been deploying small troops of vampires to distribute her power across the land... since your Fathers death. It would make sense as a previous follower of Dracula. The parties we killed must have been moving towards a new stronghold…one that this Carmilla oversees, if I'm guessing correctly- but she wasn’t with the parties we encountered. We found him though’.

Alucard was well aware of the shifting scope of power within the vampire factions since the execution. Hearing drips and drabs of inner fighting, yet no vampire had dared to darken Alucard’s doorway. However the words brought a small chill to his spine, to hear that Carmilla would so boldly aim to exploit and fill the lasting power vacuum cemented his previous musings. The devout general had truly betrayed Dracula after all. He had truly hoped that the woman had merely fled, having angered Dracula, and would continue to remain on the edges of humanity. But he could not ignore the recounting of conflicts across the land, nor the battered Forgemaster warming his weary bones upon the flagstones.

‘It’s clear that Carmilla betrayed my Father before our own battle,’ Alucard added thoughtfully. ‘I had thought as much, seeing as she was not around to die alongside the previous generals. I did not want to believe it, and have kept myself away from most of the talk’.

Trevor moves from the fireplace, he points proudly at the captive. ‘Okay then, I uh now present to you- eh, where to find Carmilla!’.

‘I have no concrete plans regarding my next move,’ Alucard admits softly, rising silently. He suddenly feels lethargic beyond his scope of physicality. The desire to close his eyes to the political fallout his Father’s death had exacerbated sounded delightful. ‘Vampiric Lords are nothing new. Truthfully. No one will ever come close to the ruin only Dracula could promise’.

Trevor snatches at Alucard’s loose silk tunic, and Alucard allows himself to be pulled with the force to face the aggravated hunter.

‘You revisit me, and bring only drama. No vampire, Carmilla included, has the means to be a threat to humanity as a whole,’ Alucard speaks softly, only a slight scowl at the wrinkling of his clothes. Eager to end the argument before it truly starts. ‘This is not my fight’.

‘We come here to tell you that vampires are everywhere. And that this nice human we found is actually some sodding lunatic Forgemaster. But you’re not even the slightest bit concerned? She had a fucking Forgemaster!’.

‘And now she does not.’

Alucard unlatches Trevor from himself and pushes him to a stumble. Sypha moves quickly, an arm encircling Trevor’s hunched shoulders but she doesn’t move to strike, or argue. Her eyes, however, stare hard. She drinks in the unspoken sadness that shrouds her friend, the procrastination born from apathy.

‘No you don’t, Alucard. You fucking coward. You don’t get the right to go for a fucking thousand year nap whenever it suits you!' Trevor bellows, the hurt carrying through empty halls. Alucard flinches at the animosity.

‘Alucard,’ comes Sypha’s soothing voice, delicate yet firm. ‘We didn’t come here to demand a war. Or ask you to join one. I know it’s a lot to dump on you, and I am sorry. However, whilst vampires like her continue to live, this is your fight! This is our fight’.

‘I know I cannot bury my head,’ Alucard admits, pausing. ‘But I don’t seek the eradication of my race, either’.

‘That’s not what we’re asking, Alucard. We travelled so far from Wallachia and the amount of activity was shocking. We’re asking that you help us rid the world of this Carmilla. At first we thought it may have been small covens we could face, but this is a former General. Now we know that she served Dracula, we can’t sit back and allow her to continue’.

‘I shall not,’ Alucard declares. ‘She no longer has access to creating a demon army. If we destroy her, another vampire will rise to take her place. I have been complacent, I admit. However, if I strike her down myself I-I-‘.

‘Okay, we get it. Vampires reign supreme and all that shit!’ mocks Trevor, a pitch higher than his usual voice. He swaggers from Sypha and pulls the pair to become a duo beside him, united. ‘But look, this Carmilla is a threat. Let’s get some information out of her friend there, and we can make sure you stretch those legs. Kill evil vampire lady, keep humanity alive, repeat in another two months! Agreed?’.

Alucard chuckles at the charm in which Trevor spins the uphill battle. If he were being honest with himself, the thought of removing another potential war lord from the Earth leaves him indifferent and vengeful all at once; it’s the internal struggle against who he truly is, and wants to be, that catches him. It snares his movements, leaving him standing alone. On what foot does he fall? He can shoulder the burden in the meantime, of slaying his own undead kin, but is he not more of a monster in the long-term for smiting those like himself for the sake of humanity? After all, he would not be himself if it were not for both a vampire and a human. Yet his love for his Mother, and her beloved humanity, and the two who became his catalyst crashes around his head. Alucard swallows his convoluted musings for the moment, his Mother’s smile captivating in his memories.

‘I do not find joy in slaying another vampire. It’s hard to convey in words…confusing. But I can’t, and won’t, turn my friends away. Nor ignore my Mother’s pride for a selfish want of warped seclusion. I have sorely misjudged my Father’s lasting impact. I have spent so long inside my own head, I had forgotten to open my eyes’.

‘Fantastic speech,’ Trevor teases, slow capping to himself. Alucard responds with a pointed glare. ‘All that shit, and you still haven’t said yes. What a tease’.

‘So, yes. I shall aid you in defeating Carmilla. This is my duty. However it would have been nice to see you both again, without the impending threat of violence’.

Trevor smiles wickedly, 'never a dull moment!'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Say 'Hello' to Hector in Chapter 2! Also Sypha might just get her answers.
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are welcome. Got a prompt, or a story you want written?- drop me a comment or you can find my Tumblr on my profile. This prompt kinda evolved before my eyes..!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alucard rises, looming. He sips from the chalice as an afterthought. Certainly nowhere near as intimidating as the eight foot his Father could boast, but enough to reflect his inheritance.
> 
> ‘I shall leave you with my companions now. Sypha has been kind enough to agree to look over your wounds. I suggest being nice to her, or I have no doubt Trevor shall put your head on a pike and wave you from the front of the castle,’ he quips teasingly. ‘Cleaner than his laundry, yes. But an eyesore, really’.

Death did not grace the halls of Dracula’s former fortress. In all manners of speaking. However as he looks upon his sudden prisoner, still arranged before the now dead fireplace, he wonders if death would not be a welcome guest once again. But the prisoner stirs and Alucard continues to swirl the wine within his chalice, once again ignoring his inner monologue.

Hector’s face contorts often in his sleep, scrunching painfully. His shackled hands entwined in prayer. A breathless pant and his eyes open robotically. Alucard wets his lips, tongue teasing a fang, tasting the undiluted anxiety in the air. Its been near on two hours since the pair were left alone.  
The human before him, still bound, wakes in a charade of apathy. Though Hector cannot conceal the small shudders that course through his body. Alucard coughs politely from his seat, observing the display.

Hector moves as expected, in small sluggish movements. He expertly rolls from his side and onto his knees, bringing his shackled wrists to his lap. An exquisite show of submission Alucard does not desire.

‘Look at me, Hector,’ Alucard speaks firmly.

Hector raises his face stiffly, his eyes growing wide. A rattle, like children collecting pebbles in small hands, escapes his sore lips. Alucard raises his chin and watches the man bottle the thrum in his lungs, sealing his mouth. This is not the man who once stood at the heel of Lord Dracula; seducing the souls of the dead to rise for him, and move within flesh they never wore.  
Swallowing his disgust, Alucard moves swiftly to one knee before his captive. The man remains frozen, his heart beat a fervent stab to Alucard’s ears.

‘Drink,’ Alucard finds himself commanding, pushing the cool metal of the chalice to the parted lips. He scrutinises the desperate thirst the man cannot hide as he gulps the wine. Alucards pulls the beverage away when the man splutters helplessly. It would be a shame if any were spilled.

Hector wheezes to catch his breath, his eyes downcast and searching the plush carpet he rests upon.

‘My Father had to die,’ Alucard announces, filling his nose with the stench of Carmilla. ‘Maybe a lesser man would think that I should thank you’. Hector drops lower, his wrists gathered at a peeking collarbone. ‘But I shall not’. Alucard raises his free hand, studying the sharp knuckles he so often spars with. ‘You are weak, where I am strong. I dare say that if it were not for my friends, I may just have turned you away. I am many things, but Carmilla I am not’.

Finally Alucard lowers his hand sharply, ignoring the naked flinch. A hearty fire roars to life behind the pair, the sitting room uncomfortably warm. Yet Hector allows his eyes to close to the comfort.

Alucard rises, looming. He sips from the chalice as an afterthought. Certainly nowhere near as intimidating as the eight foot his Father could boast, but enough to reflect his inheritance.

‘I shall leave you with my companions now. Sypha has been kind enough to agree to look over your wounds. I suggest being nice to her, or I have no doubt Trevor shall put your head on a pike and wave you from the front of the castle,’ he quips teasingly. ‘Cleaner than his laundry, yes. But an eyesore, really’.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

‘Very impressive!’ Sypha beams, nudging Alucard playfully with one elbow whilst simultaneously flicking through a tome she had not put down since raiding the gifted library. ‘You’ve almost transcribed a third of the Belmont archive!’.

‘One would think I had all the time in the world…’.

Trevor snorts, Alucard plucking a bottle of wine from his hands before he can spill it. ‘I knew there was a reason we liked you!’.

‘A compliment, Belmont?’.

‘Bastard,’ both Sypha and Trevor chime, the trio each sharing easy smiles.

Months had passed the trio by, whilst Sypha had sought out her caravan. Trevor faithfully beside her. Her family devoured her heroic deeds, proudly recounting every small detail. Time escaped the humans so quickly. Yet Alucard did not require sleep as often, so his days often stretched longer than most, and lonelier also. The sudden absence had allowed Alucard the time he needed to grieve. He would forever bear the sins of his Father, coupled with his own; although he knew he had to break down alone to truly appreciate the company of humans again, to absorb what had been taken from him, and to be free to move forwards with a lighter heart.

Sypha, with her nose still pressed to the immaculate handwriting, waved Alucard away as she re-entered the sitting room, seemingly unphased.

‘We’ll be careful,’ Trevor grumbles having spied the dhampir frowning. ‘Cross my heart!’. He makes the sign of the cross with his fingers, smiling broadly as Alucard slams the bottle of wine back into his eager hands.

‘Very well,’ Alucard snips, schooling his expression. ‘It’s about time I prepared dinner for the pair of you anyway. Also, please do not go wandering alone. I seem to have an infestation of skeletons in the dungeons. They’re quite into pulling themselves apart. They’ll simply take a rib and take an eye out ’.

Trevor smiles wickedly from the doorway, ‘reckon they’ve got nothing on me!’. He ducks beneath a playful jab and skirts to join Sypha in the sitting room.

Sypha sits before the glow of the fireplace, the flames flickering as she exhales heavily over the tome. Her hands hover over a bandage ridden chest, Hector dutifully laying stock still with his head in her lap. The tome rests on his stomach. Trevor would almost find the scene amusing had it not been for the broken manacles.

‘You freed the bastard?’.

‘Oh please,’ Sypha snaps, her fingers wiggling and weaving intricate patterns of green. ‘He nearly fainted when I told him to lay back, Trevor! You’re more a danger to yourself than he is right now’.

‘Rude!’ he replies, scowling at the Devil Forgemaster. The bandages were rising and moving as though water sloshed beneath. Hector holds his gaze. A bead of sweat runs down his sharp cheekbones, disappearing within a bruise on his jawline. A sharp crack and Hector’s stare hardens.

‘I’ve reset the ribs,’ Sypha sighs heavily. ‘Healing isn’t my forte. It’s harder to manipulate. Ask me to cook a man, yeah I can do that. But stop some internal bleeding, now that’s hard!’.

Trevor ruffles a hand within Sypha’s sweaty hair. Hector turns his face away, the heavy chain-link of the remaining collar pooling on the floor. He balls his shaking hands into fists.

‘Try not to get them broken again!’ Trevor warns, taking a hearty swig of wine. ‘Now what the fuck do we do with him?’.

Sypha rises with Hector, shoving the tome into Trevor’s free hand. She hooks two fingers within the front of the metal collar, whispering assurances at the fearful face. The neck is too slender, allowing a third finger to press against the mottled skin. A strip of heat blasts upwards, Hector stumbles away croaking as the metal bursts outwards with a cry. Trevor squawks as a lump of metal takes the bottle of wine from his hand. Sypha smiles triumphantly.

‘You wasted good wine!’.

‘Alucard will forgive me,’ she winks before extending a palm to Hector. The man stares at it as though she’s pressing a knife to him. His mouth opens and closes. With a too prominent shake he unfurls his fingers and presses his hand into the smaller one. Sypha wraps her heated hand around the Forgemasters and gently leads him closer to the fireplace. Trevor visibly bristles.

Hector stumbles and Trevor is there to snake an arm around his narrow waist. Trevor feels the press of ribs as Hector flinches into the touch. Sypha catches the tome before it accidentally falls into the fireplace with a very disappointed huff.

‘Well- the dungeons are off limits-‘ Sypha quirks a brow, interested. ‘Something about skeletons playing fetch with their ribs. I don’t know the specifics’.

Sypha shrugs nonchantly, the tome miraculously disappearing up a wide sleeve. ‘I suppose he joins us for dinner then…’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone spot the glaring Easter egg? It'll tie in with a friend of Hector's :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hector has a bath.

There had been small windows of easy-going affability to Carmilla. However there was never coherence to her moods. Deceptively veiled, the vampire would walk softly into her violence; her fingertips delicate upon bruised lumps, lips parted against the cusp of broken bones. She could whisper sweet promises so heavy with pride, Hector would do anything to swallow the fisted sob in his throat.  
With each tender touch, Hector tumbled further within the misguided affection. Sought barbed compliments to preen himself, hungry to stave away the unfathomable violence.

Carmilla terrified Hector to the marrow. She was the cold sweat at the base of his spine; the pressure behind his eyes.

The evening Carmilla had held Hector face first in the bowl of cooled soup, her hands pining his squirming body, he had wished to die. He had desperately fought the burn deep in his lungs, inhaling the tainted liquid, but slumped into the churning pull of darkness only to be resurrected again. Carmilla had broken the wooden bowl across his chin, drove his body through the table and into the marble floor. It was only then that he had been kicked aside, fingers pulling his throat wide to breathe. 

Hector resurfaces violently finding himself standing. His hands are clawed in the thick mahogany of the kitchen table, tendons so prominent a melody could be plucked.

‘Sit. Down!’ Alucard demands, biting his words into mere syllables. Hector jolts at the order, angry and fearful in the faces of those seemingly feeding him without cause. Trevor levels his spoon, slurping his broth loudly.

Hector wants to scream his lungs empty. Scream until nothing but blood and saliva coats the back of his teeth; to push the dregs of his energy into tearing the castle down atop himself. Except he hasn’t spoken in months. So he shakes violently with his thoughts instead, panting, forcing the unspoken into a seething stare.

Alucard matches the look easily. Trevor dips a hunk of warm bread into his meaty broth and continues to eat, his eyes watching the disturbance with an amused smile.

‘If you’re not hungry now,’ Sypha tries, pulling the bowl and wooden cutlery towards herself. ‘There will be food later’. Trevor follows the sentiment by snaring the portion and wiping a second piece of bread around the edges.

Alucard is hunched slightly, jaw tensed.

Hector deflates. He sinks heavily into his seat, submitting. He keeps his eyes on the table, allowing for the conversations to continue. He doesn't keep track of what is said, or how many times Sypha has laughed, or Trevor spilled a drink. He floats among the noise, un-tethered and lost.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Hector tugs his hands through his disgustingly heavy hair, pulling at the knots and dead ends. His fingers work the lavender water into a lather. He soaks, sinking beneath the petals and stems often. His hands always come back to his hair though, fingers rubbing the brittle dead ends away and culling the loose clumps.  
Warmth he had believed lost sloshes around him, lulling him. As he washes rigorously, Hector takes stock of the universe of scars. The wrists, ankles and throat speak of Carmilla and her wickedness. The small neat lines here and there fill Hector with heavy shame, and he turns his eyes from the sunken indentations of his own teeth.  
Carmilla had snapped the wrists of the foolish guard who had allowed Hector to chew into the tender flesh of his own wrists; he never sought a second attempt.

Alucard knocks loudly, entering the bathing chamber with his eyes focused away from the metallic tub. With the dhampirs presence comes hide trousers, cloth tunics and cloaks lined with furs. Hector keeps his chin above the water, peeking curiously at the pile of clothes Alucard dumps beside the tub. He watches Dracula’s son fold his long legs to sit comfortably on the masonry, and wishes he could question the generosity.

‘I won’t have you walking around in rags,’ Alucard speaks as though he had read the man’s thoughts. ‘It’s clear that Carmilla did more than break your body’.

Hectors cheeks flush, and he swallows thickly.

‘You abandoned humanity. And found something evil,’ Alucard finds himself sighing, a spike of irritation seeping into his words. As much as he dislikes the Devil Forgemaster, he loathes Carmilla more. ‘In time we shall discuss it all. However, for the time being you will heal and make yourself useful to me’.

Licking his lips, Hector nods slowly. It's as plain as day. He works his lips, voiceless.

‘You will work on your speech. Again, in time you will provide us with information regarding Carmilla'. Obediently Hector nods, his eyes wide and earnest. ‘Until then, I have prepared lodging for you. You have access to necessities. But know that I am the Lord of this castle now. I will know where you are at all times. Nothing shall befall my companions. They saved you, for better or worse…’.

Alucard claps his hands together sharply, punctuating the stifling silence. ‘Well, that’s the hard part finished. Somewhat’. Hector offers a small feeble smile, his relief abundant. The feeling comes alarmingly quick and he squashes the thinking, berating himself. Alucard radiates an easy charm, swagger almost, yet he is also a calculative creature Hector thinks hotly. He could bide his time with comforts and small interactions, almost trick himself into believing that Alucard is more a representative of humans and their compassion than a spiteful vampire, quick to turn.

‘It’s not very comfortable hearing my voice this often, especially after being without company for so long,’ Alucard admits, his eyes distant. Hector pinches a thick scar on his wrist, his bladder suddenly feeling full. Alucard tilts his head as though startled by a far off noise, his eyes ghosting over Hector who holds the rasp in his throat. ‘I mean, oh never mind!’ he stands in a flourish of grace, his high cheekbones peppered with a light rouge. ‘Leave the old rags in here. Everything I brought is yours to keep. It’s plain but it’ll keep you warm’.

Unable to describe the emotions that he had seen flit upon Alucards face, and helpless to comment, Hector keeps his eyes level with the golden hue of his eyes. He dips his head, bowing awkwardly in the tub, a fisted hand ghosted over a field of bruises upon his breastbone. Only when the dhampir leaves does he break the eye contact and sink like a stone. He allows the water to push him down, race up his nose.  
Hector breaks the surface with a wordless cry, pawing at his face. He feels his knuckles as sharp as glass, can feel the pull of the skin around his jaw. Hector rolls his head back, stretching his legs as far as they will go, and begins to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise the next chapter will be longer...and hopefully lighter!
> 
> Thank you so much for all the comments and kudos I have received so far. It's actually really inspiring to read that people are enjoying this story, and it makes me want to stop everything and write. So keep them coming people! 
> 
> If you have any prompt, or a suggestion, that you'd like to see in this story (say like a specific interaction between Hector and co, or what he may stumble across in the castle) do not hesitate to drop me a comment. This story actually started as a prompt, so don't be shy. :)


	4. Chapter 4

The days creep heavily; Hector waking to aches and pains receding, food and water greets him in timely fashion each day and he tails Alucard through the halls like a child, when not locked away in a guest room. He can feel the thrum of anxiety that settles in the pit of his stomach each time he awakens in a soft bed, it accompanies Hector at all hours, his inner thoughts loud and barbed. Not even Sypha’s small smiles and questioning nature can cure Hector’s hectic mind.

Hector sleeps uneasily, tossing and turning. He wakes in cold sweats often, smothering his face into the fine silks and sobbing, shivering and clawing at his throat. When his thoughts tumble into darkness, he slips jittery from the sheets and curls up upon the oak flooring, his hands stroking patterns and words into the woodgrain. If Alucard hears, it is not mentioned. Sypha however is always on hand with a brewed tea the following morning; Alucard joins the pair and speaks nonchantly on small matters of herbs and potions, occasionally prompting an opinion or thought from Hector.

Hector refuses to believe that Alucard and Sypha are more aware than they lead him to believe. It’s easier for the man to close his eyes to the humanity and small comforts they offer willingly. Trevor on the other hand truly does act as though he’s not aware; crashing about the castle in the early hours, the snap of his whip cutting the air. Hector only hears the tell-tale signs of training so early when the sky is as dense as smog, and lightning illuminates the darkness randomly.

A week has bled by and Hector wakes groggily from a light sleep. He washes unaided, dresses in thick wools and walks alone through the wing he resides within. It’s a long enough walk to reach the wrought iron elevators that Hector has never considered exploring the wing further, content in the knowledge that he is credible enough to move between the wing and lower most floors of the castle without a shadow.

This morning he steps into the largest kitchen of the castle; a frequent gathering place. The elevator moves back into the brickwork and the bars clang shut.

‘Good morning,’ Alucard greets Hector good-naturedly, his voice having softened over the days. ‘Take what you desire from the table before Trevor eats it all’.

Hector nods stiffly and feels relieved when Alucard does not press him further. Hector makes his way around the table quickly, picking at the fruit offered and drinking a mouthful of pressed juice hurriedly.

Trevor jostles against the table, plucking at sweet meats and grumbling at the lack of anything alcohol related.

‘Today, I require your hand in clearing a section of the dungeons,’ Alucard hums in Hector’s direction, moving around Trevor as he does so. His long fingers curl around Trevor’s wrist and the human has the audacity to blush, a brazen smirk firmly planted on his face.

The words however send a spike of dread through Hector, pinning him to his allocated seat, his heart skips a beat. He places an apple back into the basket.

Unbeknown to the Forgemaster’s distress, Trevor moves into Alucard’s space and the teasing continues. ‘One time, arsehole!’ he grumbles into Alucard’s hooded eyes.

Alucard glides away, his tongue teasing a fang. ‘An invitation would be polite’, he says with a faux swoon.

‘You could always _beg_ ,’ Sypha quips as she strides through the kitchen, arms full of scrolls and inkwells. Both men share an amused glance, Trevor’s eyebrows disappearing into his hair; Sypha winks at Hector as she passes. The woman’s presence softens his worries and Hector lets a heavy sigh leave his body. He snatches the apple up and takes a hearty bite.

‘Moving on,’ Alucard continues, helping Sypha move her work to clear end of the dining table. ‘I do actually need to sort the dungeons out. Aside from our dear Trevor… I have been hearing some peculiar noises down there,’ he ducks a duo of scrolls, ‘I should also look into the enchantment keeping those skeletons wandering about down there’.

‘Fuck off then,’ Trevor grumbles, retrieving the scrolls and pointedly looking everywhere but the dhampir. Sypha ignores the bickering, nibbling on a handful of berries as she hovers over the texts, her free hand scribbling notes.

Hector can’t hear the squabbling over the beating of his heart. He’s overthinking the words.

‘Hector?’ Alucard questions and the man flinches in his seat, hiding the reaction behind a quick swig of water. ‘I was just asking if you’re ready to join me in the dungeons’.

‘Quite the forward bastard aren’t ya!’ Trevor snorts, Sypha’s notebook bouncing off his shoulder.

‘Charming as ever,’ Alucard sneers, turning to stare expectantly at Hector. The Forgemaster moves from his seat with more calm than he has. ‘We’ll start at the north point. Work our way through until we can find the source of all that noise. Usually the skeletons aren’t so animated, so it would be best to find out why’re they’re back to launching their ribs about the place’.

Hector nods affirmatively, hoping that by the end of the work he’d be tired enough to sleep heavily.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The descent into the north most point of the dungeons is a painfully quiet affair. Alucard taps his boot against the elevator floor often, the machinery plunging them deeper in the bowels of the castle. Only when the door clatters open does Alucard speak.

‘I’m going to carry us through. Truth be told, I don’t enjoy walking around down here,’ Alucard offers and Hector allows the dhampir to wind a cold arm around his waist. His face feels hot as he’s flush to the man, forced to wrap his arms around Alucard’s stomach as they hover over the rubble. Alucard pins Hector to his side easily, his free hand curling into a fist; flames burst into existence, lighting the abandoned halls.

Hector is fascinated with childish delight as he glides through the air, his eyes peeking up at Alucard staring hard ahead. Alucard’s hair whips gently around him with the motion and Hector can’t pry his eyes away from the keen jawline. His ethereal beauty is both alluring and chilling.

Alucard flows around corners and through holes in walls, his head occasionally tilting towards noises only he could hear.

‘We’re finally here,’ Alucard sighs, pulling his arm away. Hector drops sharply, he wobbles on his feet. He scowls at Alucard who shrugs sheepishly.

They stand within a sunken elongated room, a large cluster of skeletons are gathered at the far-end of the room. Alucard watches as a skeleton pulls a rib loose and tosses it into the gloom of an adjacent corridor. Something clatters far off. He can’t see past the tide of bleached bones, but the first skeleton shuffles backwards and allows for another to take their place, continuing the action.

‘What the hell is going on?’ Alucard demands.

The small army of skeletons clatter and pivot to face their Master, jaws grinding relentlessly.

‘Stop!’ Alucard grits out, scrubbing a hand over an ear. ‘I don’t particulary care that my Father’s enduring magic has miraculously kept you here. However I can hear you all the way from the castle. So, again, what the hell is going on?’.

Skulls swivel, sockets peering at each other in turn. Hector can almost taste Alucard’s agitation as teeth and jaw bones begin clicking and clacking almost immediately. Before Alucard can shout at the mob of arguing undead, a small yip runs through the noises. If skeletons could look uncomfortable, Hector was sure the mob would be sweating.

Alucard tenses, his hand snatching Hector’s wrist in a painful clamp. Hector gasps noiselessly, his knees surending beneath him. He sinks to his knees, his right hand scratching and hitting Alucard’s own.

‘If I let you stand,’ Alucard whispers, his expression pinched. ‘You promise me that you will never step foot down here, ever again!’.

Hector bobs his head frantically, his limbs weak. Except he doesn’t rise to his feet when Alucard’s stony hand releases his, for a small yip steals the last morsel of strength he has. Hector could of sworn that he heard the dhampir chuckle as his eyes hunt between the skeletal femurs and fibulas.

‘Now that’s quite the surprise’.

The skeletons part like waves, a small patter growing louder.

A rib skitters into the room, spat from the maw of the hallway. A pinprick of blue bobs after, growing larger, closer; a small dog leaps from the gloom, tumbling over the rib and barking excitedly.

Hector sputters wildly, his fingers twisting in the dirt and cracked cobblestones. The dog, a deceased pug, rears its head and shrieks. The tiny body tumbles onward, tail thumping erratically. Three tiny paws, and one picked clean set of bones, thumps into Hector’s chest.

Hector cries hard, his sobs drowned gasps. He pushes his face into the black fur, his fingers delicately tracing the open eye socket. He’s wailing into the squirming mound of dog, his hands everywhere, clinging as though the dog would evaporate into thin air.

‘A friend of yours?’ Alucard asks gently, crouching.

Hector’s a mess of salvia, snot and tears as he smiles back. Ecstatic, elevated, alive. If he were to die, this one moment alone would allow him to pass over contently. Cesar is yipping, barking, demanding his Master praise him. Hector cries harder, his lips wordlessly kissing and mouthing words, he cannot find.

Alucard catches Hectors eyes again and pats the dogs head affectionately. ‘Hector, as thankful as I am we’ve solved this problem. I can’t bring the dog upstairs, unless it’s house-trained. Does it even have a name?’.

Hector knows he cannot part from his dear Cesar now, knowing that his dog is alive and well. He fights against the lump in his throat. If he could only speak, confess his unbridled happiness, thank Alucard for reuniting his family. Hector can hear the words in his mind, can feel them upon his tongue. He’s no longer collared to cower and beg. He too can bark and bite.

‘Y-y-yes,’ he forces the broken words from his lips, Alucard’s face twisting. ‘Cesar!’ he croaks, the dog all tongue and tail. He yearns to shout the name, to hear it echo, but his throat has already closed against the love. Hector cries again, harder, feeling empty still within the embrace of relief. It’s bittersweet to see his little Cesar search for his name again as he’s cradled silently.

 _Soon,_ Hector thinks, pressing his forehead to Cesar’s own. _I promise._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cry with me? Scream at me? What did you think?


	5. Chapter 5

Alucard inhales deeply, he can hear the pad of uneven feet below and the chime of Trevor and Sypha’s accompanying laughter. He closes his eyes, pinpointing the murmur of hushed words, smiling. Their laughter teases him, leaving Alucard hungry to join his friends. However he can’t hear the Forgemaster; his ears twitch but he hears no muffled sobs, no small croaks or hurried chewing. The man’s absence is like a cold spot.  
Alucard knows, however, that if he cannot hear or smell the man it can only mean that he has either left the castle altogether or ventured out onto the battlements or number of walkways between.

*

It takes longer than expected for Alucard to find Hector; an annoying fact he has stewed upon since the fifth flight of stairs. Trevor finding out about Alucard's secret elevators previously had been a nightmare; and he wasn't ready for anymore jokes about him being a lazy teenager. So Alucard had begrudgingly found himself cursing Trevor for being an idiot and had stubbornly taken a multitude of staircases and he'd never felt quite so breathless doing so. 

He spies Hector leaning against a small watchtower below him. Alucard heaves a small sigh before hopping off his own narrow walkway and plunging. He makes easy work of the web of walkways and battlements, finally teleporting himself to where Hector stared off unknowing.

  
The man is watching the sky intently, his arms hugging a burlap satchel to his chest. Alucard feels the stir of uneasiness, he masks the evasive feeling.

‘Leaving so soon?’ Alucard croons, plucking the burlap satchel from Hector’s arms and gliding away. He stares hard, his eyes molten pinpricks against the unlit sky.

Hector flinches backwards hitting the watchtower at his back. His mouth works noiseless.

‘If you’re planning on jumping, it’s a _long_ drop,’ hisses Alucard, tearing Hector from the wall and slamming the man into the void of the crenel. He’s quickly annoyed at the man, his thoughts forming dark assumptions. Hector slips easily into the squared space. ‘You have ten seconds to explain why you’re not in your _guestroom_ , before I dangle you over the edge by your ankles!’ Alucard snaps, fearful.

Hector’s hands scrabble wildly against the adjacent merlon faces; Alucard pushes his hips to the small of Hector’s back, leaning further into the man, a hand fisted around silver locks. He can feel the tangible fear in the heavy quivers beneath him. Alucard jerks Hectors head back, skyward to the explosion of stars, ghosting his lips against the base of his neck.

‘Speak to me, Hector,’ he breathes, the words sending a shiver down Hector’s spine. ‘ _Speak’_.

The command twists within the night air, snaking around the pair, slipping past Hector’s lips. Alucard can feel the magic nudge against an invisible wall, tendrils probing outwards. Hector remains silent. A fang stabs Alucard’s lip in frustration, his jaw clamped tight.

Alucard tugs Hector away from a significant fall, pulling him tight to his body. He can feel each palpation tenfold. The man is a beacon of warmth.

‘I couldn’t find you,’ Alucard sighs heavily shoving Hector from him. The human croaks, sprawling. Alucard takes a long moment to compose himself. ‘It was an easy assumption to make,’ he grits out, frustrated at himself also.

With no conversation to ease the tension, Alucard uprights the bag instead. An inkwell shatters and three scrolls fall lazily. Alucard allows Hector to snatch a scroll to his chest, raising a silent eyebrow in response. He swallows a joke that would have made Trevor proud.

Instead he quips, ‘last will and testaments?’, his annoyance not quite reigned in.

Hector shakes his head quickly, nimble fingers unfurling a scroll. Alucard drops to a squat, scrutinising the messy scrawl; a series of equations, scribbles and vague directions greet him.

‘Not quite the suicide note I had been expecting,’ Alucard hums casually, opening his own scrolls to see further notes. ‘Oh!,’ he breathes, taken aback. He coughs, tucking a scroll into the waistband of his leather trousers. ‘Anyway…you’ve written us two scrolls worth of information, it seems. Thank you’, he replies hurriedly.

Hector accepts the cool hand offered and rises slowly with Alucard, unable to meet the dhampirs eyes. Each man holds a single scroll detailing aspects of Carmilla’s night horde. Alucard’s mind feels less chaotic now that he knows Hector is safe.

 _I’m sorry_   Hector’s fingers flash, moving fluidly through the air. Alucard inhales sharply, a royal mix of annoyed and impressed all of a sudden.

‘I should chuck you over,’ Alucard scoffs, his voice light.

Hector clutches his chin as though deep in thought, winking over his fist. He smiles sheepishly, his fingers moving slowly in the air before him.

 _I can’t talk just yet_ , he signs smoothly, _I haven’t needed to sign since childhood. I believed that I’d forgotten half of the letters, but I’ve been practising._ The sheepish smile returns.

Alucard laughs loudly, thanking his Mother and her thirst for knowledge. ‘It’s fantastic that we can finally communicate. Thrilling. However, you still haven’t explained as to why I had to search for you…and found you all the way up here’.

_Where you really going to push me over the edge?._

‘No!’ Alucard snaps, almost insulted. ‘Merely a scare tactic in case you were thinking of leaving me with a dog that keeps pissing on the carpets’.

Hector’s shoulders shake with quiet mirth. _Humans are fickle. I’d been debating whether to throw the information over the side_ , his face settles into a solemn expression, a hand scratching at his chest. _I started to compile bits and pieces of information I thought might be useful. It helps to write when I can't sleep. I found the writing equipment in the desk._

Alucard finds himself following the patterns of Hector’s fingers easily, nodding along. ‘Wouldn’t it have been easier to toss the scrolls into a fireplace? You have plenty to choose from’.

 _Ah,_ Hector continues with a small smirk of amusement. _I was sure you would be able to smell a newly lit fire. Did not want to tempt fate._

Alucard watches Hector’s mouth move around the words he signs. Impressed that the man can lip-read his own so effortlessly.

‘Well, you’re certainly banned from ever coming up here again,’ Alucard deadpans, snaking an arm around Hector’s waist. He enjoys watching Hector’s eyes grow wide as he leads them onto the stone wall, squeezing him closer reassuringly. ‘We should regroup and have a little chat. So we’re going to jump’, he whispers and he could swear Hector’s eyes shine excitedly at the prospect. ‘It’ll take about three jumps for me to reach the bottom. Don’t be sick,’ he shouts into the wind, leaping with a youthful shout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll keep that third scroll for a later chapter!
> 
> Also I really can't help writing these two being dramatic brats. Fuck.


End file.
